


Blood and Sunshine

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Series: Cracktastic Vampire AU [1]
Category: Dark City (1998)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Crack, Empathy, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Purple Prose, Vampire Sex, Vampires, alien vampires, vampiric empathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5683924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret darker than the Stranger's experiments lies behind the city and its purpose, and to survive, John Murdoch must return to the city, to the one man holding the answers... and perhaps more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chocolate and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> This was -literally- my second DC fic. And apparently I dove straight into crack. But it's a prerequisite to the even more cracktastic Vampire AU crossover I'm getting talked into finishing... so. Here's some alien vampire sex.

In the sunshine of Shell Beach, it was easy to forget about everything that John Murdoch had left behind in the city. Easy to lose himself in the warmth of the sand, the salt sea air. In Emma’s – no, Anna’s smile. Easy to push aside the man who filled his synthetic memories. Thinking of Daniel Schreber brought about other, darker memories. Things that came back to him all too easily in dreams.

Then came pain, scarcely two weeks after he’d ended the eternal night. What began as a slight stomach ache quickly escalated to bouts of debilitating agony, cramps and nausea and the most horrible hunger, but everything he tried to eat came back up again. And he was freezing cold, cold and weak no matter what the weather was like, no matter what he wore. Whatever it was that was wrong with him also seemed to affect his sense of smell, and suddenly he couldn’t stand to be around anyone else. The scent of them, like a sharp acid, a metallic tang, hit the back of his throat and triggered the bouts of pain, triggered the hunger.

After three days of it, he chased Anna away, turning angry when she tried to stay, saying hurtful things until she left in tears. It was easier, alone. Better for her not to have to deal with this. Easier for him to get through the pain without the trigger of her scent. But he was so tired.

One morning when he awoke, his legs gave out as he started down the staircase of his simple home in Shell Beach, replica of the one in his childhood. Pain blossomed as flesh struck wood and plaster, until he lay crumpled at the foot of the stairs, in the entrance-way of the house. Staring blankly across the dusty hardwood floor, it took him a moment to notice the strange, flat package on the floor, slipped through the mail chute. Gathering his energy, he sat up slowly, inching across the floor to it.

There was no return address, just his name in tidy, copperplate handwriting. ‘John Murdoch, Lighthouse Road, Shell Beach.’ He tore off the paper and opened the thin box.

There was a letter on top, neatly folded into a cream paper envelope. His name written again on the outside. He opened it, blinking several times to focus on the letters.

_‘Dear John,_

_Please forgive me, that I have left you alone to suffer this. I haven’t_  
_your strength, and as such, I cannot follow you out into your golden,_  
_sunlit world. I pray that this package finds you in time. Please drink_  
_the medicine I have enclosed. It will give you strength to come_  
_find me. I will give you any answers you seek. But please come  
_ _quickly. This is all I can send you, and it will not last long._

__

Sincerely,

_Doctor Daniel Poe Schreber’_

He read the letter through twice, then looked down at the box again. Nestled carefully in tissue was a thin glass vial, filled with dark liquid, almost black. Medicine? He turned the vial over in his hands. He had no reason to distrust the doctor, despite his aversion to remembering those dark nights and what had happened in the city. The Daniel in his memories was enough reason to trust. The Daniel that had taught him everything, how to be strong, how to overcome. How to defeat the Strangers.

He uncorked the vial and drank it before he could second guess his decision. He tasted wine, and sweetness, like syrup, and heat, and a strange metallic tang. He could feel it slip down his throat, warm and tingly. Almost immediately his mind spun with a rush of disorientation and energy, like alcohol, like nicotine, but stronger. Left him seeing stars. But the ache inside was gone, and he let out a sigh of relief, feeling as if a great weight had been taken from him that he didn’t know he’d been carrying. Then there was nothing else he could do but what Daniel had asked. Wrapping himself up in a long coat, even though the sun was blazing, he tucked Daniel’s letter into his pocket and caught the single bus into the city.

The bus driver, the people around him looked at him strangely, bundled up against the cold that only he could feel. He ignored them, hunkering down in his seat, watching as the seaside disappeared to be replaced with city walls he had hoped he’d never see again, with dusty, colorless buildings and the hustle of the city.

Finally, he reached Daniel’s office, though when he thought back on it, he could never quite remember how. He took the elevator up to the third floor, stepping out into darkness and being instantly and horribly reminded of the Stranger's city, their darkness. Their night.

Somehow, though, he had no problem seeing. There were hints of light, pinpricks escaping the thick black curtains that hung over the windows in the hall, and his eyes adjusted quickly. He crossed the hall, knocking before opening the door with Daniel’s name etched on the glass.

“Daniel?” For a moment, there was no response. The room was dark, silent, and the air smelled stale... and underneath that, the rich scent of... of what? Rich and warm and sweet. Like the medicine. He stepped further into the office, puzzling over the bodies of a few white rats on the floor. “Daniel?”

A moan, almost too soft to hear. Then, slightly louder. “John...”

He found the doctor behind the desk, crumpled on the floor. “Daniel? Oh god – let me get the light – “

“Don’t - !” Daniel gasped, holding a hand out to him. “Please, just... just let me speak. I don’t... know how much -- longer I can.... god John, I’m sorry.”

He knelt down beside him, helping him to sit up, lean against him, arms around his shoulders. Whatever he’d smelled earlier was stronger, sweeter, and he realized somehow that it must be Daniel. The blonde was shivering against him, skin ice cold and clammy. “God, you're freezing... Daniel... what’s happening to us?”

A soft sigh. “Forgive me, John. I... lied to you. About them, about the... experiments.”

He couldn’t comprehend what Daniel was saying. “What do you mean? I saw them Tune, I saw you inject those people with new memories... Emma has new memories.”

“That part... was real,” Daniel sighed. “But their purpose... was not to learn. We were not the -– subjects of their -– experiments. We were... a farm.”

“A... farm?”

A slight nod. "The memories were -- just cover, so that we -- wouldn't live any one -- life, long enough to -- discover the truth. Or question -- the eternal night. There were two – things, you see. That they -– needed, to survive. One -– the bodies, that they inhabited. Dead, yes, but... not when they moved in. Two –- blood. To sustain -– the dead. The hosts.”

John tried to sort through and make sense of his words. “Blood? Like... vampires?”

In the darkness, Daniel smiled weakly. “A little... yes. Like vampires. And this is... what is wrong with us.”

“Daniel... I don’t understand....”

“That night... when you woke up with -- no memory. You had been sentenced -- to play a part, a role... events that always happened, again and again. They would -- kill. Ritualistic, harvest the -- blood. And then -- create a murderer -- to take the fall. You. When you were caught -- they would take you, and you -- would become a host -- for one of them, one that needed a new -- body. You were to be -- the next Mr. Book. This is what they -- were preparing for, when I -- injected you with my syringe, instead of theirs."

"But... I'd already become able to Tune. In the hotel room... I woke up from their sleep...."

“You didn’t –- wake up on your own,” Daniel started, then suddenly jerked tense against him with a cry of pain, spasms jerking his twisted frame.

"Daniel?" He tried to catch his arms, stabilize him, only to have Daniel shove him away with surprising strength.

"Don't touch me!" Daniel curled under the desk, arms wrapped tightly around his body, breath coming in hard gasps, shuddering. John found himself wondering if this was how Anna had felt - helpless and angry at the inability to do anything in the face of this pain.

"Daniel... the medicine...?"

The other man gave a sharp, gasping laugh that sounded more like a sob. "No," he managed. "I can't... just... please, wait...."

And so he waited, kneeling on the floor, helplessly watching Daniel fight the pain, watch him gasp for breath, and slowly, slowly come back to himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, struggling to sit up, finally allowing John to help him, touch him.

"You sent the last you had to me?" John asked softly, and Daniel gave him an almost heartbreakingly sad smile.

"Oh, my friend... you don't understand...." Blue eyes closed briefly, softly. "I am... your medicine."

John felt a cold shiver of ice run down his spine. ".... what?"

Daniel gave a soft, shuddering sigh. "I was... meant to be a host, when they... first took us. So long ago. but... they realized that my... knowledge was too valuable. So they..." he swallowed hard. "Injected me with -- their blood. To give me strength, to let me -- control the memory formulae. Keep me from -- ageing. And to control me. This is what -- I did to you. This is -- why you can Tune."

John found himself shaking his head slowly, and his voice, when he spoke, came out horrified. "That vial you sent me... was your blood?"

"Blood... and wine." The softest smile.

"... why?"

Daniel's fingers reached up in the darkness, brushing his cheek gently, and the touch was somehow electric, the scent of his skin so sweet and enticing that John let out a low groan despite himself. "I couldn't -- let them kill you," Daniel said softly. "You were too... beautiful. So I gambled. That the -- control they had -- over me, through their -- blood, would not be passed -- onto you. Only my -- strength."

"But if I... if you.... I hurt you, Daniel. How could I act against you?"

"I... allowed you to." He smiled, and John couldn't help but remember the man from his memories, the strong, handsome figure. "Such strength. You are... so beautiful." Then he grit his teeth, trembling, choking on another cry of pain.

"What can I do?" John asked, helpless.

"I'm -- dying," Daniel gasped. "Without their -- blood. As you will -- without mine."

Shaking his head, unwilling to accept Daniel's words. "What about other people? You said the Strangers used our blood. We could take just a little from everyone, we wouldn't have to kill anyone. Like... a blood bank."

"It won't work," Daniel's words were a soft sigh, exhausted. "It will... stave it off, for a while. The rats..." A soft, broken laugh. "My poor rats. It's not enough to -- to live. That's why... regular people -- smell so unappetizing." His fingers curled in the front of John's shirt. "Please -- help me into the next room...."

Daniel was much lighter than he'd expected... or perhaps he was stronger. It didn't matter. He pulled him to his feet, supported him with an arm around his waist, and the smell of honey was so sickly sweet that he ached with it. A gasping, pleasant ache that was strangely like desire.

Beyond the office was a lab, shelves of glass beakers glinting despite the darkness. A strange, low table, filled with deep grooves that sloped to drain at the top of the table into a beaker. Daniel stumbled to it, fell onto it. A tray sat to the side, medical scalpels on clean white gauze. And rows and rows of bottles of wine, three quarters full. "What is this?"

Daniel turned onto his back, stretching out as if for surgery. Head falling back to bare his throat. "You won't... have much time. The blood will -- congeal. I'm still -- human, that way. Add a half full -- beaker of it, to -- each bottle of wine. Cork it. If you ration carefully it should... last you for a few decades." He gave John that soft, sad smile again, but John was horrified.

“You - you'll die!"

"I am -- dying." Soft words, accepting. "But... you can live. I need you -- to live. Please... a scalpel, John."

John sat down weakly on the corner of the table, beside his head. Letting his hand cup Daniel's face, and the tight, scarred skin was somehow soft and delicate under his fingertips. "I don't want you to die...."

"Ah, John... you can't -- stop it. Please, let me... leave with the -- knowledge that you -- will be ok." Blue eyes meeting his, pleading, then the gaze was broken by another shudder, eyes shut tight against the pain. "God - !"

John turned, catching his hand and holding it tightly, Daniel's fingers digging painfully into his skin as he fought through it, breath in harsh, desperate gasps. "Daniel...."

"Please - !" A whimpered, desperate gasp. "Please, John! I can't -- it hurts...."

He looked to the scalpels, sickened, feeling his heart pounding hard in his chest. "I can't do it."

"Please...." His eyes are stricken. "It's... so much worse, with you here. Your scent...."

John felt his heart stop. Heard the words from his lips almost as if he hadn't spoken them. "What do I smell like?"

Daniel gave a soft, tortured groan. "Chocolate. Rich... dark... chocolate. John.... please."

Hand shaking a little, he picked up one of the scalpels, cold on the clean white gauze. Stood to lean over him, cupping his face gently, Daniel's lips parting with a soft, tired sigh.

"Thank you...."

John hesitated, staring at the glint of steel, Daniel's pale skin. The bottles and bottles of wine and glassware. This was worse than the dreams that haunted him, the memories of the Strangers with their white faces and horrible voices, the nightmares of falling through the hole in the world, falling into space like Bumstead.

"No," he whispered softly, and pressed the scalpel to his own skin. Slicing into his wrist, deep into the pulse point, drawing a sharp breath at the pain that blossomed, hot and sharp and red.

"John - !"

He dropped the scalpel with a soft hiss, hearing it bounce onto the floor, somewhere in the darkness. But he was already pressing his wrist to Daniel's mouth, his other hand moving to support his head, to keep him from pulling away. Daniel gave a choked, panicked noise, struggling weakly, but John held tight. "Please...."

A soft, helpless whimper, and Daniel's lips parted, smeared with his blood, sealing over the cut. Tasting him. The same rush hit him as before, the heat and tingling, sparks behind his eyes. And all he could smell was honey, was Daniel, and all he could feel was the ache of pleasure, desire, need. Somehow he had climbed onto the table, kneeling, and Daniel had curled up into him, upper body cradled in John's arms, supported against his chest. Shuddering in his embrace, fingers clutching John's forearm so tightly that it hurt, but he didn't care. The sensation was too intense, too beautiful, and he buried his face in his blonde hair, drunk on the rush of sensation, drunk on the scent of him. Then he felt heat on his arm as Daniel pulled it from his mouth, and looked down to see the cut close up by itself, and realized that Daniel was Tuning, closing the wound. Healing him.

Daniel curled into him more, arms slipping around him, holding him tightly. And slowly, slowly the trembling began to lessen, the sensation residing. He heard a soft click as a lamp in the corner of the lab turned on, bathing the room in soft, golden light.

Daniel's voice, soft, wondering. Free from pain. "It never... never felt like -- that! -- When They fed me...." He pulled back just enough to look at him, blue eyes wide behind wire-rimmed glasses. "John...."

"Don't leave me," he whispered, not trusting his voice in the aftermath of so much intensity. Leaning in, almost on impulse, to lick away a smear of his own blood at the corner of Daniel's mouth, he felt another shock as their lips connected. The taste of his blood had the same deep richness as the wine Daniel had given him, but with the slightest undertone - just as Daniel had said - of dark chocolate. And suddenly Daniel was kissing him, tasting him, his mouth warm and trembling. Taste of sweetness, of honey, of blood. His skin, unshaven, rough against Daniel's soft fairness. And the hunger he felt now had less to do with blood, and more to do with something much more familiar and human. "I need you," he murmured, helplessly, against his mouth. "Daniel...."

Daniel's voice, just as soft, but wondering, and a little reverent. Kissing him again, intensifying the desire, the all too human need. "... and I you."


	2. Blood and Sunshine

When John thought back on it, it wasn't hard to accept. Not after everything that he'd already had to process - the Strangers, his ability to Tune, the fact that his whole world was a small city floating in space that he mastered. No, it wasn't that far a stretch to process the idea that there was something in his blood, some alien technology or DNA, that gave him his quazi-omnipotent abilities over matter. Or that he needed a fresh source of that substance to survive.

Daniel's blood. And Daniel needed his. And then his mind had to process the idea that another man - that Daniel desired him. That he felt the same dizzy sense of need, desire and love. Maybe it was the blood, their necessary interdependence, that lead to that desire and heartbreaking feeling of need. The inability to be without him.

Kneeling on the lab table in the dim light with Daniel in his arms, after acting impulsively to save him from some kind of noble sacrificial suicide, John let out a soft sigh, drinking in Daniel's kisses, mind settling into the realization that yes, this was right, this was what needed to be. "Don't ever try to do that again," he murmured softly, and Daniel smiled, smiled against his mouth.

"As long as you will let me -- give you what you have -- given me," Daniel agreed, voice just as soft, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of hunger and desire and promise, that made John shiver.

"Let's leave this place," he said. "Please. I don't want to think about... what almost happened."

Daniel looked hesitant, glancing out toward the office. "I'm sorry -- John. I... daylight is very difficult for me. I have too much -- of them in me, I'm afraid. But if you like, we can leave to my -- apartment, which is the floor -- above us...."

John gave him a soft smile. “I’d like that.” He helped Daniel off the table, keeping an arm around his waist in case he needed the support, but Daniel’s strength seemed entirely renewed. Still, he leaned into John a little, seeming to enjoy the closeness.

“One the sun sets, we should – go find dinner,” he said as they crossed the office, pausing to Tune away the body of the bodies of the dead rats with a sad little smile. “If you were -- anywhere near as bad -- as I was, I’m sure you -- haven’t eaten in days. We still – need that nourishment. Not like them....”

John nodded, stroking his side lightly. It was hard to think about food with Daniel so close to him, his mind clouded with the scent of honey. “My arm...” He said suddenly, just remembering. “You... Tuned it? How?”

Daniel smiled, leaning into him a little more as they waited for the elevator. “It’s no different --than any other kind -- of matter. Just more – intricate,” he explained. “So I suppose – you could say that it – takes more concentration. As well – it doesn’t seem possible – to tune one’s own – body. The mind, I think, instinctively – protects us against harm – that way.”

The elevator arrived. Impulsively, he pressed Daniel back into the corner, pressed his lips to the corner of his right eye, against the tight, scarred skin. Closing his eyes to focus, reaching out with his mind the way Daniel had trained him to do. Carefully, ever so carefully Tuning, shifting cells ever so gently, slowly. Smoothing the skin. Making it right. Pulling back with a little smile as the elevator stopped. "No different."

Daniel's lips parted slightly, silently, watching him with soft wonder, and it made John feel somehow tender and shy at the same time. He slipped an arm around Daniel's shoulders, voice soft as they left the elevator. "I'll fix everything. I want you to walk without pain, breathe without pain...."

"Thank you," Daniel whispered, as if not trusting his own voice. He cleared his throat as they reached the apartment door, unlocking it and showing John inside. It was dark, the windows covered as they had been downstairs, but Daniel gave an absent motion with his fingers as they entered, turning on the lamps, soft golden light throughout the apartment. It was tidy, classic, and just a little masculine, and John found himself liking it very much.

He took John's overcoat and hung it on the coat rack, seeming a little nervous as he did so, watching him. "May I -- get you something -- to drink? Some tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

He followed Daniel into the kitchen, watching him fuss over the tea, cutting up a few apples from the refrigerator, a soft cheese, pulling a few small pastries that looked somewhat like scones out of a bread box, then tucking a small tray of some other kind of pastry into the oven. "You must forgive me," he said softly, setting the tea to steep. "I did not have the opportunity -- to entertain guests, with the way things were." A little apologetic smile, and John could feel an incredible sense of loneliness and isolation.

"I can't imagine the Strangers would appreciate tea," he remarked, trying to lighten the mood, smiling as Daniel chuckled softly. Oh, but his laugh was beautiful... bright like the sunshine he couldn't see.

When the food was ready, they ate in silence, ravenous, Daniel stopping only to retrieve the second set of pastries from the oven, which turned out to be sausage rolls. It was a relief to John, to be able to stomach food for the first time in days. To start to feel human again. "Thank you," he said, once the food had disappeared, finding it very easy to sit with Daniel, sipping a third cup of tea. "That was delicious."

"I'll take you out -- later," Daniel promised softly. "Show you the beautiful places -- in our city. Oh John, there is -- so much we can do -- you, and I... with Them gone."

He found himself smiling, reaching to take Daniel's had in his, very much liking the idea. He finished his tea. "Thank you, I'd like that." Then he looked to Daniel, hesitant. "I would like to... see to you first, if I may...."

Daniel nodded slowly, giving him a little shy smile. He turned to the dishes long enough to have everything wash itself, the kitchen cleaned in little more than the blink of an eye, and John found himself wondering why he'd never thought to do such a thing at home. "Is there a limit, to what we can do?"

Daniel considered that, taking him back into the main room. "Yes and no. Certain things are -- easier than others, I find. And you may feel a little fatigued -- after a very large amount -- of work. Also, it is very difficult to tune -- if you haven't received blood -- in quite some time. I'm sure you can -- imagine." He sat down on the chesterfield, dark walnut set with navy velour cushioning, and patted the seat beside him, which John slipped into without complaint.

"How often did they give it to you?"

Daniel's eyes darkened a little. "At first... not at all. Until I agreed to help them." A little shudder. "They found it was... more effective, than the beatings. Then, if I -- behaved, every few -- days." He regarded John quietly for a moment. "Have you ever smelled -- opium? That was their scent. Sickly sweet resin. If I never smell that again, I will -- be very happy."

John gave a slow nod, lifting a hand to rest it gently on his chest. "... may I?"

Hesitation, then a slow nod. "Yes... thank you."

He slipped his other arm along the back of the couch, curling around Daniel, letting his cheek rest lightly against his blonde hair, enveloped in the scent of honey. Closing his eyes, sending out little tendrils of thought. Exploring his form, the layers of skin and muscle and bone. Finding the damage, cold and black against the warmth of life. Rebuilding slowly, cell by cell, rewarded as Daniel's breath slowly deepened, relaxed, came more easily.

When he finally finished, he found himself feeling more exhausted than he'd expected. Pulling his hand away, Daniel's arms came up around him, curling into him, silent tears on his cheeks.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "It's... it's so good, John. Thank you."

He smiled, holding him, stroking his hair, finding the closeness, Daniel's warmth, his scent so enticing. "Shhh... the least I can do."

"Are you tired?" Daniel pulled back just a little to look up at him in concern, and if anything, the blue eyes were even more expressive with the scarring removed.

John hesitated, then gave a little rueful nod. "You're right... it does take a lot more concentration."

Daniel nodded slowly, his movements taking on that nervous, fluttery feeling that John so often saw in him. Like holding a sparrow in his hands, feeling the wings beat against his skin. "The vial I sent you..." hesitation, Daniel's normal eloquence failing for once, as he searched for the words. "I'm sorry, it wasn't much. You... you'll feel better if you... take from me."

He felt a surge of desire at the suggestion, the soft ache in his core that brought human arousal with it. Finding Daniel's lips with his own hungrily, fingers tangling in his hair. "You sure....?"

"You won't hurt me," Daniel breathed softly, more than a little shy, then murmuring even more quietly. "I... want to feel that again...." He offered John his hand, shirt sleeve falling back to expose the delicate skin on the inside of his wrist, and John kissed it, feeling his pulse fluttering under his skin. And suddenly, the honey was too overpowering, enticement too strong to resist. His mind opened a tear in his skin, his vein, without a second thought, sealing his lips to the skin.

God, but it was beautiful. What he'd had in the vial was nothing compared to this, rich and hot and sweet and alive, with a hint of honey. Sensation flooding through him, rushing through his veins like white-hot sparks. He could feel so acutely the man in his arms, the pulse of his heart, the sharp gasps of pleasure pulled through well shaped lips. And his need, desire - or was that his own? Feeling like it would be impossible to have too much of him, impossible to be too close to him. And then something told him to stop, and he forced his attention to Tuning, to closing the wound he'd made. Licking away every trace of blood, then catching Daniel's mouth again, hungry, desperate, breathless, every nerve in his body alive and singing and wanting more.

Daniel responded with just as much hunger, his mouth hot and sweet, arms tight around him, fingers tangling in the back of his shirt, whimpering so deliciously against his mouth. Arching half over his lap, then moving to kneel over him, one hand slipping up to tangle in John's hair, holding him to the kisses.

John gave a low groan at the weight that settled over him, pressing him back in the couch, and heat and pleasure that arched through him from every place his body touched Daniel's. His mind couldn't focus to ponder the logistics of what they were doing, just that he needed him, needed to be closer to him. Fingers fumbled with the buttons of his vest and shirt, stroking hungrily over the bare skin underneath, soft but uneven with scar tissue. He felt a sharp flare of anger as his fingers registered the scars, and held Daniel closer, protective, possessive. Suddenly he couldn't stand the idea of anything hurting Daniel, wanting to protect him, to touch and kiss and possess every inch of him.

He tugged Daniel's vest and shirt from his shoulders, mouth moving to claim the soft skin of his throat, feeling the pulse of his heart under the skin, hard and fast. He nipped at Daniel's throat, lost in the taste of his skin, in the whimpering gasps of pleasure pulled from Daniel's throat. He removed his hands from his skin only momentarily to allow Daniel to remove his own shirt, and the sensation of that soft, bare skin again his own made him groan, made his hands clench on Daniel's ass, pulling him closer as Daniel's hips bucked against his. "Oh - !"

"John..." His name, whispered, breathless and desperate against his lips. Daniel's hands pressed between them, tugging at his belt, at zippers and buttons, the sensations maddening, the rush from Daniel's blood still hot in his veins.

"I don't know what we're doing," John found himself speaking, softly, words a soft moan. "But I need you so bad...."

Daniel drew a fluttering breath against his mouth, like sparrow's wings. "I'll teach you," he whispered, lips pink from the desperation of their kisses, parted as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled back just a little to try and think. "I... oh, this is quite...." he gave a little helpless shake of his head. "Not here. Please come." 

Daniel pulled away and stood, regretfully, and John gave a soft moan at the loss of contact, the loss of his weight. He stood as well, ignoring abandoned clothing and slipping an arm tightly around Daniel's waist, pressing to his side, needing the closeness. He nuzzled his hair as they moved, kissing his neck, hardly noticing when they entered Daniel's bedroom. Daniel turned in his embrace, pressing close again for sweet, hungry kisses and the intimacy they both craved. Hss hands moving swiftly back to John's belt, finishing their work, pushing away the fabric. Then his fingers slipped around the core of his desire, making a different kind of sparks burst behind his eyes, making him gasp and groan, hips rocking into Daniel's touch.

"Ohh, god...!" His gasped words against Daniel's mouth broke the kiss, and Daniel's other arm tightened around him, keeping him close. But he could feel Daniel's fluttery nervousness, anxiety a sharp contrast against the hot shocks of sensation that Daniel's hand was creating, shocks of pleasure up his spine to his brain.

"John... do you trust me?"

He tore his concentration away from the pleasure he was feeling to focus on his words, to kiss him again, smoothing a hand down Daniel's midline over his slacks. He cupped his lover's erection, smiling as Daniel reacted much as he had, gasping, grinding against his hand. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he could feel it, extra shocks of pleasure from Daniel. "Always, Daniel, always and always...." His fingers moved, feeling clumsy, tugging at his slacks, at his belt, and it seemed to take much longer than it actually did to rid him of the rest of his clothes. He curled his hand around Daniel's cock without thinking twice, and that he could definitely feel, Daniel's pleasure and relief and more desire and need, his trembling gasps of pleasure fluttering against his lips.

"Please..." Daniel tugged him back toward his bed, and they tumbled together into desperate kisses, bodies tangled together, arching, grinding, hands dancing over skin as if to memorize each other's forms. But no matter how John squirmed he couldn't get close enough to appease the ache, the need he felt for the other man.

"Sit back, please -" Daniel's words in a nervous rush against his mouth, though John couldn't understand why his lover felt so anxious, even now. He kissed him, hands stroking over his back, trying to be reassuring, but the desire was too strong to slow down. It took an almost painful effort to pull away, to follow Daniel's instructions, but the other man pressed close to him again without delay. Daniel knelt over his lap like he been had on the couch, his frame shivering, kisses trembling, and John could feel a heady mix of desire, of anticipation and nervousness coming from him.

He slipped a hand to curl around his erection again, stroking him slowly, wanting to feel more of Daniel's pleasure, draw him past the anxiety. Impulsively, he broke from Daniel's kisses to catch his own bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard, harder despite the flash of pain, hard enough to draw blood.

Daniel drew a sharp breath, something in his eyes a little wild at the touch of blood. He moved forward instantly, catching John's bloodied lip to lap at the wound with a little helpless groan. Holding John's lip between his, he sucked at it hungrily. The sensation from it felt almost raw, primal, desperate desire and need and ache, and John shuddered helplessly with the intensity of it all. He felt Daniel's fingers curl around his cock again, stroking him, wet and slick with something that he barely had time to wonder about before he moved, temporarily relinquishing John's mouth as he knelt up higher, holding on to the headboard.

"Need you," Daniel whispered, and then John was inside him, arching up to meet Daniel's ass as he rocked onto his aching cock. John bucked up deeper into him, crying out helplessly against the incredible heat and tightness, overwhelmed beyond words at what was happening. He bloodied his lip again, catching Daniel's mouth, and this, finally, was what he'd been craving. The closeness of being inside him, Daniel's muffled, helpless groans against his mouth. The connection to Daniel, the feedback from him as their bodies moved as one - pleasure, sensation, elation - only enhanced it, making him buck up harder into him, curling his fingers around Daniel's erection, stroking him in rhythm with their bodies.

Daniel's fingers dug into his shoulders almost painfully, whimpering breathlessly against his mouth, unwilling to release his lip, to lessen any part of their contact. John could feel an incredible elation from him, euphoric relief mixed with hot desire, and the sense that this finally, finally was what he'd needed, his salvation. John shifted a little under him for a better angle, to rock up deeper into him, and was rewarded with a helpless cry from Daniel, feedback of the most intense, aching pulse of pleasure. 

Moving together faster, harder, John aimed to cause that again and again, addicted to the heat and pleasure of Daniel's body. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around Daniel's cock, entirely lost to the drug of their pleasure, to the sensation that was building, hard and fast and irresistibly powerful, like flood waters held back by a dam. And then Daniel's tongue was in his mouth, tasting of blood, his own and Daniel's, and everything broke free all at once - the flood waters, the rush of blood, the stars behind his eyes. Pleasure so intense he could hardly breathe, his body shuddering, nerves singing, Daniel's body clenching around him, his pulse racing, hammering in his ears. He heard a harsh, throaty cry of pleasure from one, or both? of them, and felt the strongest wave of love and adoration and wonder, so strong that he could hardly breathe.

He became slowly aware of his breath, gasping against Daniel's mouth. His mind slowly began to function again, though not enough to question himself as he lifted his hand to his mouth, licking his skin clean of the thick, salty fluid. It wasn't the same as his blood, but it still sent the nicest shiver through his veins, gentle and calming in the aftermath of so much intensity. He registered surprise from Daniel as he did so. Then his lover gave a breathless, happy laugh, like sunshine, and John gathered him up in his arms, unwilling to break contact quite yet. He kissed him softly, protectively. "So good, Daniel...."

"Yes..." Daniel breathed, letting his forehead rest against John's, as if not quite trusting his voice. Fingers stroking through John's curls, over and over. Soft wonder and thankfulness.

"Will I always be able to feel you like this?" John murmured, and Daniel smiled.

"I don't know. I... hope so." A little shy smile. "I felt nothing from Them, but... perhaps this is what, in them, created their collective memories. Perhaps our gift as humans is to share emotion...."

John returned the smile, bringing up a hand to stroke his cheek gently, to touch the impossibly smudged glasses, which Daniel removed with a soft laugh, setting aside on the bedside table. He kissed Daniel gently, warmly. "Why did you feel so anxious about this, love? Not because I haven't... with a man...?"

Daniel shook his head slowly, and was silent for a moment, a little sad smile playing about his lips. "It... has been a long time," he started slowly, "A very long time since I've been close to anyone at all, in any fashion, maybe longer than you can understand. Far before you were born, John." 

He gave an apologetic smile at John's flash of surprise. "I don't know how old I am, I stopped keeping track. But I had been helping Them with their work for a very, very long time. Alone." He wet his lips. "When I... when I injected you, when I gambled... I knew that one way or another, I would die, John. By their hands, or from hunger, without their blood. But anything was better than keeping on like... that. Forever."

John brushed his well shaped lips with his thumb, and was rewarded with Daniel kissing it gently. "And now, love?"

Blue eyes met his with a sense of wonder, a shiver of the most intense happiness. "This is more than I could ever dream of, John. Thank you so much."

John shook his head just a little, leaning in to kiss him, gentle and warm. For now, the ache had subsided, left with just the incredible feeling of fulfillment and completion. "No.. thank you," he murmured, fingers cupping Daniel's cheek. "Beautiful Daniel...." 

And even though he didn't need to say what they could both feel so strongly, the words came anyway, sweet and true and it felt so good to say them. "I love you so much."


End file.
